


and you never prayed for anything more than her

by bloodaccusedstones



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 17:57:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2782277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodaccusedstones/pseuds/bloodaccusedstones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You say her name until it brands itself on your skull, burns onto your tongue; it’s your mantra, your prayer, and you’ve never been religious (your mother’s death killed all notions of any god) but maybe if you say her name enough, any god out there would hear it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	and you never prayed for anything more than her

You kneel in the dirt and stare at the opening of the pit (Carmilla jumped, that stupid, stupid vampire jumped, saving everyone, saving you). You never asked her to save everyone; some small, selfish part of you wishes she hadn’t, wishes she had left like you told her too.

A strong arm wraps around you and pulls at you gently. “Laura. Laura let’s go. We have to go, we don’t know if it’s safe.” Danny tugs at you and all you can think about is Carmilla’s tears and how she lied when she said vampires don’t cry.

///

Everyone left the dorm after you asked them to. Their rendition of the battle just made you feel sick to your stomach. She’s dead (she’s dead), and she’s not reading some philosophy book and making snarky remarks about Danny’s height or your bunched up face when you get angry and you never realized how much you would’ve missed her.

You stumble out of your bed and barely make it to to toilet before you're throwing up the cookies you had earlier. Your eyes sting and you can’t catch your breath because she’s dead, and you’ve felt grief before but never like this.

You didn’t save her. You think you should’ve; she’s saved you so many times and no one saved her. Not in all her lifetimes.

///

Perry and LaF check on you. They bring you cookies and hot chocolate and make you take a shower. They say that jumping back into your studies might get your mind off things, but how will that work when half of your room is empty and no hair is clogging the shower drain and no one steals clothes or yellow pillow? (she’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead).

///

You’re shaking and your chest feels like it’s caving in and is this what it’s like being buried? Maybe you should’ve asked Carmilla but she’s dead ohgodohgodohgodshe’sdead, and you’re sobbing into your yellow pillow, and it doesn’t feel like yours anymore.

“Laura! Laura! Breathe, Laura! Please breathe, Laura!” But you can’t, you’re being buried and you hope it’s next to Carmilla’s body. Danny shoves a cold glass of water in your hands and yanks you out of your grave.

“Carm.” You choke, and Danny wraps her arms around you. “Carm.”

“I’m sorry, Laura, I am. I’m so sorry.” Danny whispers in your ear, but you can only say her name because she’s dead (so, so dead), and you never said her name enough while she was alive. You say her name until it brands itself on your skull, burns onto your tongue; it’s your mantra, your prayer, and you’ve never been religious (your mother’s death killed all notions of any god) but maybe if you say her name enough, any god out there would hear it.

///

After your breakdown, Danny insists you get out of you dorm. Perry (always the mother) agrees almost immediately, and of course LaF agrees because Perry does, and it’s not like you asked for their opinions anyway.

You join them in the university’s cafe to grab a hot chocolate and everyone stills when you enter. It’s strange and makes you uncomfortable (they only know you because of Carmilla, stupid, stupid Carmilla) so you walk quickly to the table the three are sitting at. You try to join the conversation, you really do, but she’s dead, and that’s all you can think about these days.

///

It’s been three weeks and you still feel an empty cavity in your chest, so you light one of her candles to hold your own vigil. You sit on your bed, holding the yellow pillow, bathing in the soft, warm glow of her candle and whisper, “I love you.” It echos in your skull, you should’ve said that instead of “you know”, you should’ve said that when she was alive (she’sdeadshe’sdeadohgod). You sniffle. “I loved you.”

Past tense has never hurt like this before.

///

“Ah, gosh darn it!” You scramble to clean up the spilled hot cocoa that slides around on your desk. It’s been a month and a half, and the ache in your chest is still there, but everyone has tip-toed around you for long enough and you’ve never been a dependent person. You clean up the mess and get back to your assignment that’s way overdue. You notice the bat-wing charm resting next to your computer (how did you not notice this before?) and feel a tug in your ribs. You haven’t said goodbye to her yet. You don’t really want to.

///

 

The door slams open and it’s still so annoying that people don’t just knock, so you’re about to swing around in your chair when you hear a cough and strangled noises coming from the doorway.

You jump out of your seat and see her (CarmillaCarmillaCarmilla) and she’s coughing up dirt and she’s covered in blood and clay and her limbs are awkwardly twisted in ways limbs should never be turned and she’s hunched over and hobbling toward you.

It’s not until you hear her garbled, “Laur-”, that you jumping into action. You throw her arm over your shoulder and practically drag her onto your bed. She’s moaning and your crying but you don’t know if it’s because she’s alive (she’saliveshe’saliveshe’salive) or that she’s in so much pain.

You call the ginger squad (it doesn’t hurt when you call them that because she’s alive) and they rush into your dorm. They all gasp, probably for different reasons, but your crying and holding her head in your lap and all you can think is that’s she’s alive (maybe you can save her this time).

///

LaF is the first to move, followed by Danny. LaF rushes over to you and Carmilla and pulls Carmilla’s shirt over her head. Everyone gasps and you feel like throwing up; her torso is a mess of dirt and blood and bones sticking out and her beautiful, pale skin and you cry harder when you notice her arms are burned almost down to the bone.

Danny grabs some bandages from your emergency safety kit (you’ll thank your father for years) and you wave you hand around until it lands on hers. She give you the bandages and you can barely see her through your scalding hot tears, but you think you see her eyes watering.

Carm groans loudly and you snap you head down to her so quickly, you’re surprised it didn’t fall off your neck. Carmilla is staring at you, eyes unfocused and mouth hanging open and you’ve never seen anything as beautiful as her in this moment. You lean down and whisper in her ear while wrapping her arms up. You want to gag because everything smells like something’s burning and charred flesh has a texture you never want to feel again.

She coughs up more dirt and LaF is looking up something on your computer with Perry standing next to them and Danny is trying her best to pop some of Carmilla’s bones back into place. You brush Carmilla’s hair out of her face and she’s moaning but staring right at you through squinted eyes, and she’s so, so beautiful it’s painful (she’saliveshe’saliveshe’salive).

///

She’s still moaning but not as loudly. Danny is standing over you, glancing between LaF and Perry working on some weird concoction and Carmilla’s body laying in your lap. You trace Carmilla’s features: her sharp jaw, small nose, angular eyebrows, run you fingers through her dirty hair.

Tears are still leaking out of your eyes but you don’t care because she’s alive, so, so alive but in so much pain. “Carmilla, Carmilla, Carmilla.” You whisper, chant, and it sounds so full of pain even to your own ears, but you didn’t say her name enough when she was dead. Your mantra is still her name, just with a different meaning.

///

“Laura. Laura.” She gasps and you shush her, she sounds so weak and tired and hurt. “Laura.”

“Yeah, Carm?”

She has tears spilling out of her black, black eyes, but you don’t think they’re from pain (you hope they’re not). “I’m sor- I’m sorr-”

You shush her again.

She has nothing to be sorry for.

“I lo-I love you. I love you, Laura.” She whispers and you sob (you always thought your name was the most beautiful thing that she’s ever said to you). You lean down, and say it back to her, forwards, backwards, over and over again until you’re sure that’s the only thing you‘ll ever hear again.

///

LaF gives you their mixture to give to Carmilla and that has steam rising from it so you ask them what it is.

“It’s this rejuvenating drink, type thing. We mixed it with blood so it could make her heal faster. Well, faster for a vampire.”

After she drinks the whole cup, Carmilla stills.

///

She moves after a while. You don’t know how longer she’s been still, but it’s probably been a long time, seeing as the three gingers look dead on their feet. Maybe it's from finding out Carmilla's alive and beaten that they're all so tired. They all wake up a bit after Carmilla stirs, and you send them to their own dorms; you can watch her for tonight.

Carmilla moans and you run you fingers through her hair. It’s dirty and she needs a good shower but you don’t care because she’s alive and she loves you. She opens her eyes and sets her unfocused gaze on you. She is so beautiful and you almost lost her and you whisper, “I love you”, and she grins as best she can. She still can’t talk very well (pain and misuse you guess) but when she mumbles, you know what she means. You lean down and gently kiss her.

It’s an apology and a promise.

///

It takes a week before she’s able to move without breaking all of her ribs. Another before she can stand on her legs without your help. You don’t mind helping her, of course, she died for you, but she still has her pride.

It’s slow progress, but you’re not complaining (she’saliveandshelovesyou).

“Laura?”

“Hmm?” You turn your head slightly from where you are working on you computer.

“Did you mourn me?”

You turn to look at her. She’s standing next to her bed, hunched over slightly, eyes glazed, holding the candle. She’s looking at you and you see nothing but curiosity and pain in her eyes.

(she died and came back and is still recovering. this is why her walls are down and her sarcasm is gone right now, you tell yourself.)

“You died, of course I mourned you. I love you.” You stand up and take the candle from her gently. You place the candle back on her headboard and grab her hand (so new and not burnt, so pale, so alive).

She cups your cheek and smiles, rests her head on your forehead.

“I have waited my entire existence for someone like you.” She whispers.

///

And when she kisses you, you realize that you had saved her long before she saved you.


End file.
